Torn to Pieces (The Boys of DownCrash #2) (new adult contemporary romance / rockstar romance) (7 page)

“Better hit the gym extra early tomorrow,” Scarlett said.

“You probably get your cardio in though in other ways,” I teased.

Scarlett found two wine glasses and kept smiling.  She walked to the table and bumped her hip into mine.  She put the glasses down and I saw she already had the wine open.  She picked up the bottle and took a drink from it.

“To us,” she said and handed it to me.

“What, do you think you’re some rockstar now?  Drinking from the bottle?”

“Shut up and drink,” Scarlett said.

I couldn’t argue with that.  I drank from the bottle and put it down.  Scarlett poured us each a glass and then looked at me, holding the glass.

“What are you doing?” I asked.  “This isn’t a wedding or something...”

“Just listen to me,” Scarlett said.  “You’re the craziest girl I know, even if you claim you’re not crazy.  And I love you for it.  You were with me through rough times you didn’t know were rough for me.  But just by being here, you made it matter.  By going out, having fun, enjoying your life, it helped me.  It doesn’t matter if you haven’t fucked a hundred guys, trust me, that’s a great thing.  Just know how much you mean to me.  And all I want you to do now is what I had to do...”

“Which is?” I asked.

“Follow your heart.”

Scarlett tapped her wine glass to mine and we drank. 

When she stopped she said, “Oh, by the way, Tatum says
hey
.”

I almost gagged on wine.  “What?”

“Yeah, Tripp was at band practice.  Tatum yelled from the background...
Tell your hot friend I say hey and to put that drumstick to use
... whatever that means.”

My mouth fell open and I smiled.

“What does that mean?” Scarlett asked.  “That’s not like something sexual, is it?”

“Oh, you’re gross,” I said.  I couldn’t help but visualize where Scarlett’s mind had just gone.  Uh, talk about uncomfortable... 

“What does it mean then?” Scarlett asked.

“Tatum wrote his phone number on the drumstick.”

“Are you kidding me?  And you didn’t call him or anything?”

“Yet,” I said.

“Yet?  What kind of excuse is that?”

“I didn’t say it was an excuse.”

“Not calling him is an excuse in itself.  The drummer from DownCrash gave you his number and you didn’t do anything with it?”

“That’s not true.  I have the drumstick on my nightstand.”

“Yeah, because that’s going to get you in his bed, isn’t it?”

“I already told you...”

“Stop that talk,” Scarlett said.  “Take a chance with Tatum.  The way he talked about you last night, trust me.  He’s not concerned about a reputation.  And remember, it doesn’t even exist.  When you tell him that, it’ll be like you’re a virgin.  I bet that’ll turn him on.”

“Change of subject,” I said and went into the kitchen to find plates.

We ate, we drank, we talked, we laughed.  The only thing we didn’t do was cry which Scarlett ruined when she told me the next time she gave me her apartment key it would be for good.  She had taken it back that morning so she could let herself in after work which would be one of the last times she’d be able to do that.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” she asked me.

“Not that I have a choice,” I said, “but yes, I’ll be fine.  I’m not going to hold you back, Scarlett.  You and Tripp belong together.  Enjoy it.”

Somehow the wine bottle ended up empty.  I joked about it at first, calling Scarlett a closet drunk, but once I stood from the couch, I realized maybe I had been the one who drank most of the wine.  I put my hands out for balance and started to laugh.  It wasn’t even eight o’clock and I was drunk.

“You know, now would be the time to call Tatum and Tripp over,” Scarlett said.  “I’m sure they’d take advantage of this.”

“No way,” I said.  “I don’t want to be taken advantage of.  I wanted to be loved.”

“How sweet,” Scarlett said.

“You don’t get it,” I said.  I felt my walls starting to break down a little.  I knew if I opened the flood gates, I wouldn’t be able to shut them.  “It’s all I really want.  Maybe that’s why I liked to make up stories about other guys.  So I could avoid it or something, I don’t know.”

“Stop avoiding things then,” Scarlett said.  “Celebrate life to not avoid things.”

I nodded and smiled, but didn’t feel so confident about that. 

Scarlett’s cell phone beeped and she dove towards it, almost face planting into the coffee table.  I watched her face as she read the text message.  I knew our night was going to be coming to an end...

“Make sure he comes to get you,” I said.

Scarlett looked up.  “What?”

“We’ve been drinking.  No driving.”

“How did...”

“Your face,” I said.  “Band practice is over?”

“Yeah,” Scarlett said.  “Tripp wants to do something.”

“Has he been drinking?”

“No.  Not during band practice.  Not anymore.”

“Then tell him to come get you.”

“No.  I can’t.  Tonight...”

“We had our pizza and wine,” I said.  “And laughs and cries.  I’m spent.  Seriously, Scarlett, I’m spent.”

“You’re calling it quits already?  You’re an old woman.”

I stuck out my tongue.  “Sorry I’m not some groupie.”

Scarlett’s face dropped and she shook her head.  “That was low.”

I smiled.  “So is leaving your roommate hanging.”

I disappeared into the kitchen and opened the freezer and saw the vodka.  That would make a great friend for the night, once Scarlett left, of course.  When I closed the freezer, Scarlett stood there, looking hurt.

“Maggie...”

“Scarlett, I was joking,” I said.

“I feel terrible.”

“Terrible enough that Tripp isn’t driving here right now?”

“He’s on his way,” she whispered.

I stepped to Scarlett and held her shoulders, both for dramatic use to make a point and to balance myself thanks to the wine. 

“Scarlett, listen to me.  Go have fun.  Enjoy Tripp.  Enjoy life.  Enjoy love.  I’ll catch up soon enough.”

“You can start catching up tonight.”

Scarlett nodded towards my bedroom but I didn’t look.

Yeah, yeah... the drumstick...

Scarlett and I spent our last few minutes of the night looking at some of the pictures hanging on the wall.  They were all collages of us, spanning our years together.  It was fun to see how much we had changed.  Different clothing, hair styles, and thinking back to those first days of moving into the apartment.  How it went from becoming a dorm away from school to a home.  An actual place to live.  But when I saw Scarlett, I realized we were both living together with enough secrets to fill the place.  We were close but we held so much back for so long.  I didn’t understand why but I knew it must have meant something.  Scarlett’s secrets had taken her to Tripp.  And my secrets...

“He’s here,” Scarlett said, looking at her phone.  “Are you sure...”

“If you say
Are you sure...
one more time, I’m going to slap you.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going then.”

We hugged and when Scarlett opened the door, I called for her.

“Do me a favor.  Tell Tripp to tell Tatum I was asking about him.”

Scarlett smiled.  “Are we in high school?  Tell him yourself.”

With that Scarlett was gone, probably gone forever for all I really knew, and that meant I was officially alone in the apartment.  Not forever, but for now.  The silence was enough to drown a person and even after I turned up the television in the living room and put music on in my bedroom, it did nothing for me.  The noise couldn’t attack the loneliness in my heart as it spread like wildfire.

This was why I liked being near guys.  They weren’t afraid to hold me and touch me, and once they were drunk enough to fall asleep, the night could end and I’d be in the embrace of somebody.

“
If we don’t keep promises, Maggie, than what can we keep?  This is all for your own good.  Not mine.  I don’t like this at all... Maggie, okay?” 

I look at the ripped skin on his knuckles, the crimson rush ready to spread down the back of his hand.  I lick my lip and taste the same thing.  Blood.

“Just keep your promises, okay?  Forever.”

The vodka kept me comfortable for a little bit. I enjoyed the burn as it went down and the smooth feeling as it continued through my body.  I somehow ended up in my bedroom, sitting on my bed.  The music had ended and I didn’t bother putting more on.  It wasn’t going to do a thing for me.  Looking at the stereo I thought about DownCrash.  Then I turned my head and saw the drumstick on the nightstand.

“Tatum...”

My mind flashed images his fist connecting with Danny’s face
. 
So hot.
  His body exposed as he tore his bloody shirt off. 
So sexy.
  His eyes devouring me. 
So protecting.

Maybe Tatum could keep doing it.  Exactly what he did last night.  He could fight something for me, take his shirt off, and then keep protecting me.  As long as I stayed with him.  Fight.  Naked.  Protect.

It made sense, right?

I reached for my phone and started texting before my mind could understand what my heart was trying to do.

Hey you. I listened.

The message was sent and I started to read it, over and over, trying to figure out what Tatum would think reading it.  I always hated text messages for that reason.  Was there any real emotion behind them?

A few seconds later, my phone vibrated in my hand.  That didn’t take long at all.

Hey beautiful.  I’ve been waiting for what feels like forever.

My heart jumped. Between my legs it was anything but calm. Tatum just proved my last thought wrong.  There could be emotion through text messages.

He sent one right after that.

Coming to visit me?

I laughed.  Then I growled.  Why did I drink wine?  Then vodka?

I can’t drive.  Might have had something to drink.

I cringed sending the message, realizing it did nothing to help my reputation.  Tatum could read the text and know that I was home, drunk, and take advantage of me.  Then again, if that happened, it wouldn’t really be taking advantage of me, not at all.  I was more willing than I could probably explain.

Tatum texted back.

How much of ‘something’?  Can I come pick you up?

I bit my lip, knowing this was one of those moments when I felt like everything in my life could change forever.  Of course, I had about a dozen of those per week and they all turned out to be nothing more than passing moments in life.  But with Tatum, I knew it could be true.  I knew he could change my life, one way or another.

I touched my phone, debating on what to type.  Flirt?  Get serious?

I’ve had enough of ‘something’.  Trust me, you don’t want me right now, I’m a mess.

It didn’t seem like the right thing to write but whatever I guess.  Eventually I’d have to spill my guts to someone.  Why not Tatum?  The worst he could do was stop responding to my texts.

Which he didn’t...

A mess?  What kind of mess?  Are you okay?

I then felt like a hopeless victim, desperate for attention to fix my situation.  They were the same kind of feelings that rolled through me when I wanted to be with other guys. 

I’m not sure I’ve ever been okay.  I’m not Scarlett... I can’t just let things go from me, not now. 

I sent the message as tears filled my eyes.  The feeling inside was pure abandonment.  I felt like such a baby, the surges of jealousy pouring through me, thinking about Scarlett and Tripp together, holding each other, laughing, having fun.  I listened to the silence of the apartment and heard the murmur of the television, knowing it was the only voice I’d hear because nobody else was there with me. 

I felt my phone vibrate.  It had to be a reply from Tatum.  I told myself to talk to him, to call him, to go back to having a little flirty fun.  But instead I fell back on my bed.  My head hurt and the room spun.  I couldn’t figure out if it was from the wine and vodka or my mind. 

My phone vibrated again, the reminder notification that a message waited, unread. 

“Tatum,” I whispered, “come find me...”

I shut my eyes, picturing Tatum without a shirt on.